


An Unexpected Sail

by bgoldfish



Series: 365k/Yr Challenge [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgoldfish/pseuds/bgoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Elros Sailed West instead of dying?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Sail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookwormfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormfaith/gifts).



> This is going to be a long project (a year long, to be exact) of writing a thousand words a day. So, enjoy the first entry!

Age had taken him, the king of Númenor who had once been of the Eldar. An elf no more. His path had taken him elsewhere than along with his brother. But even time could not deny what he'd been born as. He'd lived far longer than Men were made to be. Lived, loved, fought, suffered, and grown hunched and grey before the sea came for him.

The very sea he stood before now. No crown adorned his head. No attendants. No descendants. He'd spoken his farewells and passed his duties to his heir. He had to have confidence all his work would not be tossed aside and made useless.

And he did. But for this moment. On the edge of things. Teetering between mortality, and returning to whence his ancestors came. The white ship lay waiting for him, quiet waves splashed gently against the sides and at the shore upon which he stood.

Elros let his eyes close and raised his head to the sun. Enjoying the rays it cast on his withered skin, a smile formed. Sad, yet excited and filled with anticipation. Even then he could feel strength return as he made one more choice.

It had been centuries since he'd last seen Elrond. But that was just how his brother preferred things. They'd kept tabs on the other. Given aid when and where needed. Always and ever supporting the other, even if one could no longer bear set eyes on the other because of that one choice. He didn't blame Elrond in the slightest, though it would ever sting.

But was he really alone? Maybe. Aside from the ship's attendants, what few were needed. It was hard to know for sure. But the trees called to him, just as the sea did. One more breath, a quiet murmur that everything was ready, and he stepped onto the ship. Off the land of Middle-Earth for the last time.

There really was no going back now. But that was alright, an end to a marvelous life.

And a beginning to something unknown. Would he be welcomed to Aman? The white ship said he had a good chance. If not an outright place waiting for him. Would he meet again his parents? He could not say he regretted his upbringing by Maglor and Maedhros – they had been kind to troublesome elflings who had no place in the world.

No, that wasn't quite true. He had known, even then, that if he and Elrond had not been taken in by the brothers, they'd have managed. Someone else would have found and taken them in. It wouldn't have been the same, but it would still have been something.

Unless they'd been killed along with everyone else they'd known on the waters.

Funny what the mind focused on at the end of things, when nothing could be done to change the past. Even the Valar would have been hard pressed to, if they'd even attempt it. He didn't know. Perhaps he'd just find out, once he'd crossed the water and went West.

A new adventure. That prospect finally curled his mouth into a faint smile as he stood at the bow of the boat. Leaned against the side in a most unkingly manner that would have had his men in an uproar. All the more reason to do it, for he could feel those centuries flow off his weary body.

…

One last look, his heart commanded. Swift steps did nothing to destabilize the ship, but sent him to the back, hand grabbing hold of railing to keep him from leaping over. A mariner's child to the bone. His heart pounded as the sails had already gone up and were taking him away. Away from everything and everyone he'd ever known on Middle-Earth.

It almost hurt, to think he'd not set eyes on this land again. But it was meant to be. His time was at an end. And... there was a song on the wind. As his eyes sought out details from the treeline, he could hear the voice. An aching, sad song that nearly had him weep.

No. It HAD him weeping. Slowly, softly, silently. But there were a tear or two that crept down his face, ignored. The song grew to one of farewell, and he had no words to meet it. He'd never been the singer his foster fathers had been, nor even his brother. And his throat was too closed to raise his voice in song for almost too long.

He didn't care if his face was wet. Almost too late to be heard, but finally his throat unclogged and he stood as high up as he could as he lifted his head up, and sang.

The king sang one last time to his beloved Middle-Earth. Greeted the farewell song as an old friend before adding to it, changing it to one of fond love. Giving one last gift of joy and remembrance. He was now Elros, and only Elros. Son of Eärendil and Elwing. And by the grace of the Valar, he was returning to them. Finally. Hundreds of years late, but he would see them once more even if he had to search them out.

One last verse as the land grew too faint to see. He could not hear Maglor's voice on the wind any longer, and knew the same was in reverse. But he hang on for a long while longer before heaving a sigh and falling silent, turning away. One last time.

To move forward to was to leave something behind. To move forward was to have something more to look forward to. And what a thing to anticipate! People unmet but relatives. And, Eru willing, perhaps some he knew from his own past that had passed through Mandos' Hall and been graced with rebirth.

Only sailing forth, West, would reveal what secrets there were in store for him.

Only fitting to wipe one's face dry then race right back forward, earning laughs of delight from kinsmen, and pushing thoughts of grief and shadow aside.


End file.
